Moi giveth thee new chapter!

Chapter 20 – A Dose of Reality

They found ways to pass the time. Normally uncomplicated tasks such as sorting through hopelessly old and faded (and, more often than not, too mouldy for Harry's immediate liking) copies of the Prophet, or pairing up stray socks, or making tea, were stretched out into veritable projects made to last forever. When the grimy walls became too confining, they visited the park. If Sirius' persuasion efforts were successful, they went there twice a day, and Harry watched Padfoot dig his nose into rabbit holes and reacquaint himself with every shrub and visible root with such fervour that Harry felt exhausted. Still he cherished those walks. Sirius might be prone to occasional deep introspection these days but Padfoot certainly was not. Lifting a leg to mark a tree and soul searching were simply two utterly incompatible activities for him; and Harry found that to be wonderfully liberating.

Back at Grimmauld Place, Sirius worked his way through Regulus' room and his left-behind belongings, keeping this and tossing that away, and Harry left him to it. Sometimes he fancied himself seeing a slight change in the way Sirius carried himself, in the way he moved or spoke, as though he were finally casting the heavy legacy of the past off his shoulders. Harry imagined that his godfather was quicker to smile now and when Harry pleaded with him, he even allowed Kreacher to come upstairs to Regulus' room and claim whatever he wished from among his belongings as a token of remembrance. The house-elf spat and hissed and croaked and cursed at the sight of his old Master's room turned upside-down, but in the end he was appeased by a photograph of a young Regulus in his Hogwarts uniform, and a dusty old pillow which he stuck his long nose into for so long that his bulging eyes fluttered shut and Sirius suggested aloud to Harry that the elf was actually trying to suffocate himself.

And so the days passed, and while Harry could not completely shake the feeling of dread every time he saw Kreacher and Sirius in the same room, the state of fragile equilibrium lasted. On Thursday afternoon, however, Harry found himself face to face with brutal reality once again when a silver-sleek otter suddenly emerged through the drawing room wall and slithered up to him. It floated idly in its sea of air for a moment before it opened its mouth and delivered Hermione's message, short and to the point: "Hello Harry. Fire chat, in five minutes."

Sirius had raised his eyebrows at the Patronus and now he watched it as it attempted a little dive into the open glass-fronted cabinet. Its silky, shimmering body arched gracefully for a second or two before it dissolved into nothing.

"She certainly leaves no room for debate" Sirius observed. He was on his knees on the floor, once again trying to figure out a way to remove the Black family tree from its place on the wall. Immersed in his task, he had been running the tip of his wand alongside the edges of the tapestry but now he had exchanged his expression of deep concentration for one of amusement. "It was a good thing that you had Hermione with you on that Horcrux hunt, I reckon. I'm beginning to think she did all the work..."

Harry, who had half-heartedly been mending the old quilt, directed his wand at a small, black velvet cushion beside him and sent it flying through the room at Sirius.

His godfather deflected the attack with a quick swipe of his wand and the cushion performed an inspired little pirouette in mid-air before zooming back towards Harry to gracefully land in his lap. Sirius grinned. "Admit it, Harry, if Hermione told you and Ron to grow another pair of arms and dye yourself green, you'd already be trying to figure out how to Transfigure your jumpers."

"I wouldn't!" Harry protested. "Besides, Hermione only ever suggests reasonable things. She's... resourceful and level-headed."

"While you're the brave martyr and Ron's a hotheaded–"

"Ron is passionate," Harry objected, not granting Sirius the opportunity to finish, "about... stuff. And I'm not a martyr."

"No? I must have mistaken you for someone else, then." Sirius pointed his wand directly at Harry. "Did you not use the sacrifice of yourself as a means for Voldemort's destruction? "

Harry shifted uncomfortably where he sat in the sofa. "Well, yeah, but I had no other choice... And I never did die." They had already been through this once, on the night of his godfather's return, and he did not much care for a recollection of those events.

"But you didn't know you wouldn't," Sirius remarked. He had risen to his feet now, and was dusting off his knees. Then again, his black jeans were so faded it did not make much of a difference. "Which makes you quite the martyr, Harry."

"I..."

But Sirius was suddenly by his side and plopping down to sit beside him. Despite the grim subject of their conversation, his godfather's face was clear and there was a small smile playing on his lips. "You know, I'm terribly pleased you didn't die," he said, slowly.

Harry swallowed. There was something about the grey glimmer of Sirius' eyes that made it tricky to breathe properly. "Me too," he said. "And... likewise."

Sirius edged a little closer, his smile deepening at an alarmingly fast pace. "To tell you the truth..." He leaned in, then, and Harry's lips parted even before he was kissed. Sirius brushed their mouths together lightly. His murmur was a teasing rush of hot air into Harry's mouth. "I am most indecently and inappropriately pleased that you are not dead."

It was terribly unfair, Harry dimly concluded when they parted, that Sirius was allowed to look so at ease – so unbelievingly unruffled – after such an acknowledgement, when all Harry wanted to do was to melt into a puddle of perfect devotion at his godfather's feet. He felt warm all over as Sirius' hand landed on his knee and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Um, shouldn't we…" Harry managed, gaze reluctantly sliding to the fireplace.

With his free hand, Sirius lifted his wand, and with customary deliberate languor pointed it across the room. "Incendio."

The embers that had spent a good part of the past hour glowing with little zeal now flashed a hungry orange and sparks and flames sprang up and set about devouring whatever was left of the untouched wood. Sirius cocked an eyebrow at Harry and there was a satisfied, silent smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. The sofa felt remarkably crowded. But curiously not in an unwelcome way.

Harry fought to speak normally. "She'll pop her head in at any moment…"

"Yes." Sirius inclined his head minimally, smirk still expertly in place. "I do believe that was the very essence of that message her Patronus delivered." He shifted half an inch closer, so that their thighs were pressed together and Harry could feel the warmth seeping from Sirius' body into his own.

"So… shouldn't we wait for her…?"

Sirius face fell a little and he heaved a sigh, "There you go again, Harry, with that word: should…" But it did not matter how adamantly he pretended to be upset, his eyes were still gleaming too much for Harry to take him all too seriously. "Besides, I don't see how we are doing anything but waiting for Hermione's head to Floo in."

"Yeah, but…" Harry glanced down, at the distinctive lack of space between them.

"But?" Sirius' smirk was back in full force. "By all means, Harry, speak your mind." The hand that had been resting on Harry's knee slid a little higher up.

Tendrils of heat crept through Harry's thigh and over his cheeks. "I just don't think she expects us to, well, sit this close."

"I think that what you are thinking is absolutely correct." Sirius laid down his wand. "But I also think that I find waiting terribly boring." He was holding Harry's gaze steadily, fingertips pressing into his thigh ever so lightly. "Necessary at times, yes, but never particularly entertaining." His eyes narrowed just a tiny bit. "It is one of my most prominent character flaws, in fact: I was always an extraordinarily impatient being."

Harry licked his lips. They had gone very, very dry. He was fairly certain that Sirius was no longer talking about the upcoming chat with Hermione but about something else entirely. It was not easy but he made himself speak. "Sirius, I'm sorry, I don't mean to be…"

But his godfather shook his head and leaned in as close as he might, until he could bump his nose against Harry's. "Never be sorry for needing time," he mumbled, and his warm breath tickled Harry's lips. "I'm just an impatient old sod."

It was Harry who angled his head first, making their mouths brush together. He kept his eyes open although he could not have said why. Through the glass of his spectacles he watched, mesmerised, as the intense light in Sirius' eyes softened and how the lines around them multiplied as his godfather smiled into the cautious kiss.

They did not exactly part when it was over. Sirius lifted a hand and dragged a gentle fingertip over Harry's cheekbone. "I know it's a big step," he murmured. "And I know I'm not easy on you... But it's... it's been so long since I..." He bit his lip in a moment's hesitation. "Since I felt–"

"Sirius," Harry blurted out. The way his godfather was looking at him, the way he spoke – if this was going to go on... if Harry were to, one day in some not-too-distant future, allow Sirius to do things to him that he had never dreamed of doing only two weeks earlier, Harry had to say something. And it had to be said now.

A small frown had settled in his godfather's features. "Yes?"

Harry swallowed again. His throat felt raw and his heart was hammering in his breast. It was quite possible that this was likely to be worse than anything else he had ever done in his entire life. "You know I love you, yeah? I mean, I've told you so. Right?"

Sirius' frown deepened. "Yes," he said, almost warily. "And I've told you..."

"It isn't just that," Harry cut across him with some haste. Before he lost his confidence. "There's more." He wanted so desperately to look away from the older man's face but he forbade himself to avert his gaze. "I... I'm in love with you, Sirius."

"Harry..."

"No. I need to tell you this." Harry hated the way his godfather seemed to pull away from him without even moving. "I need you to know. And I need to say it. I... I'm in love with you."

His admission was met with a wall of compact silence. Even the flames in the fireplace seemed to hold still in shock. Gradually, what little air was left in Harry's lungs seeped out of them and it was ages until he dared to draw another breath.

Beside him, Sirius opened his mouth... and closed it. His grey eyes were wide.

And then the fire flared up with a hiss and Hermione's head appeared among the flames. "Harry?" she called, her head turning carefully from one side to the other. "Are you there?"

Sirius' hand that had been resting on Harry's thigh sprang away at once. It left an icy, cold patch of pure emptiness behind.

"Uh, yeah..." Harry barely knew what he was doing when he slid to his feet and stumbled across the floor. "Yeah... I'm here." He dropped down onto the carpet and leaned in close.

"Oh! Excellent!" Hermione smiled. "I can't tell you how uncomfortable this is. Ron said he'd bring me a cushion to kneel on, but then Mrs Weasley called for him and he had to run..." She cocked her head to the side so that half of her chin disappeared. "But it is good to see you again, Harry. How are you doing?"

"I'm OK," he said, automatically. In the corner of his eye he saw Sirius getting to his feet. "I'm good. We're good." Apart from the fact that his heart felt heavy as stone and that it was beginning to hurt, that was.

The flickering fire did not hide the concern in Hermione's eyes. "Really? I do miss you, Harry. And so does Ron." She grimaced a little. "Wherever he is."

Harry gave a small smile. "I miss you too," he said, and realised in the same moment how very true that was. "How's everyone on your end?" he asked.

Hermione sighed. "To be honest, I don't know. It's so difficult to say. Ron's holding up... You know how he is – a second helping of pudding does wonders for him..." Her smile was slightly sardonic, and yet Harry did not miss the blatant affection underneath it. Nor the flash of sadness in her eyes.

"So you keep him well-fed?"

"Yes..." Her face fell a little. "It's mostly Bill and Fleur doing the cooking now, you see. It... Well, when it became obvious that Mrs Weasley would not cope with everything, they Flooed in from Shell Cottage..."

"Yeah... Because nobody in their right mind would let you anywhere near a stove," Harry gently teased her.

"I'm not that horrible," she protested meekly.

"Mm... I still recall feasting on mushrooms, Hermione," Harry grinned. "And more mushrooms."

"That's because I had nothing to work with. You can't just conjure food out of thin air, Harry. As well you should know, too. It's one of the Principal Exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration and–"

"Believe me, Hermione, I know." He dared to roll his eyes. "You already gave that lecture. About a thousand times before, remember?"

"Oh, fine. I only meant to say that..."

"You only meant to excuse your non-existent cooking abilities," he winked at her. But held up his hands in a placating gesture. "It's good though. You can't be an expert on everything, after all. That'd be... unnatural." Harry shook his head. "You'd be perfectly insufferable. Even worse than you are now."

Contrary to his expectations, Hermione's weak scowl vanished in favour of a loving expression. "Oh, Harry... I miss you. I really do! Are you sure you're OK? How is Sirius?"

For a short while there, Harry had forgotten entirely about his godfather but now he felt Sirius' hand, gentle, on his shoulder. The touch sent a frisson of itchy tension sliding through him and in that moment he could not speak.

But Sirius did it for him. "Hello Hermione." The older man sank down to his knees before the fire and Harry shuffled a bit to the side to give his godfather some space. The hand disappeared. "How is Arthur and Molly?"

Hermione smiled up at him. "Oh, hello Sirius." She nodded, chin dipping into the embers, and sighed again. "Mr Weasley is OK... more or less. Or so it seems, at least. He does go in to work most days. And there are lots of owls for him. Mrs Weasley doesn't really like that at all. She's... she's devastated. That's why Bill and Fleur came over... And Percy spends a lot of time at the Ministry, too... and George and Ginny mostly keep to themselves."

At the mention of Ginny's name, Harry's heart tied itself into a knot and sank into the pit of his stomach. Being in love with Sirius did not mean he had stopped caring about her.

Sirius inclined his head. "And how are you doing, Hermione?"

"Me?" She must have attempted a shrug of sorts because her head jerked oddly. "It's weird... All of it. But... I've got Ron." There it was again, Harry saw: that small, affectionate smile that spoke volumes, but which left a bitter tang in his mouth. Then she laughed, as though surprised. "I can't believe I'm actually saying that."

But Sirius only smiled. "You're lucky."

"Yes..." she said slowly. "I suppose I am. Although my knees could really use a cushion. Oh, but I am supposed to tell you about tomorrow."

Any smiles were brutally wiped away by those words. A raw churning of Harry's stomach made him wish tomorrow would never come. "What about tomorrow?" he asked, trying his best to sound appropriately reasonable.

"Well... the service starts at eleven," said Hermione, but even she could not mask the pain that welled up behind her eyes, shining bright in the fire. "But we should be there by ten thirty, at the very latest. Mr Weasley says there will be hundreds of wizards and witches from all over Britain attending the funeral." Her eyes darted to Sirius' face but she said nothing.

Harry nodded, deciding to focus on the logistics for now. "So we should be there at ten thirty, then. I suppose it'd be easiest to Apparate."

"Ah, yes, well... We'll be travelling by Portkey, actually," said Hermione. "Since Ginny is still underage she's not permitted to Apparate. And Mrs Weasley wants us to stick together."

"Underage?" Harry stared at her. "But surely they can't... She's been in a war, for Merlin's sake!"

"I know, Harry." There was a streak of resignation in Hermione's voice that told him this was not the first time she had heard that argument. "But she's still technically underage. So we will be using a Portkey. There is nothing stopping you and Sirius from Apparating, though." She bit her lip and looked at Sirius. "You will come, won't you, Sirius?"

Harry glanced at his godfather. He was pale but looked determined. "I will," he said. "I want to. I need to. It was... It's... Remus' funeral." His jaw clenched. "And people can react any way they see fit. I don't care."

Harry wanted desperately to touch him, to hug him, but he stayed still. "We'll be there," he told Hermione quickly. "Hogsmeade, yeah?"

She gave a thoughtful nod. "Yes. How about outside the Hog's Head? I can't imagine Aberforth will open tomorrow so there won't be much of a crowd there."

"All right. Sounds good."

"OK." Hermione gave a bleak smile. "Well... I guess I'll see you tomorrow, then."

Harry tried a smile, too, but it felt only awkward on his lips. "Yeah, see you tomorrow... Hermione?"

"Yes?" Her eyes lingered on his face and he wished she were more than just a talking head in a fire.

"Just, um... Tell everyone..." His throat was tight. "I... Just tell them that..."

"I will, Harry." She pressed her lips tightly together for a moment and blinked rapidly a few times. Then she took a deep breath. "Oh, this floor is digging into my knees! I'll see you both tomorrow."

He nodded, finding no more words. And unable to hide the tears that were stinging his eyes. The last he saw of her before she vanished, though, was her smile, and despite it being somewhat shaky, it was a comforting sight.

For a little while after Hermione had vanished, nothing happened. Harry sat staring into the shrinking fire, not really succeeding in feeling anything in particular; his mind kept wandering in all sorts of directions, almost all at once.

"You miss her." Sirius spoke quietly, and his voice sounded oddly flat.

Harry did not look up. "Yeah..." he admitted. "I mean... I spent months with Hermione on the hunt. It was only the two of us... after Ron and I argued and he left. I guess I got used to having her around."

"It's OK if you want to leave, Harry," said Sirius. "I understand."

"Leave?" This time he had to look up. His godfather's shoulders were hunched and there was a haunted gleam in his eyes. "What do you mean?"

Sirius gave an awkward shrug. "If you want to go to The Burrow, it's fine. Honestly, I wouldn't blame you."

Something awfully cold wrapped around Harry's heart and squeezed. "But I don't want to leave," he managed, pushing the air past his aching throat. "I... I want to stay with you, Sirius." He reached out for his godfather, only held out a hand. A mistake, he discovered at once.

At the gesture, Sirius jerked away and sprang to his feet. Turning his back to the fireplace, he rubbed the heels of his hands into his forehead. "Harry..." His arms fell back to hang limp by his sides. "You don't understand."

Harry did not know what to say. He could not find the courage to stand, let alone demand an explanation. In the end, when it became evident that he was not going to come up with a reply, Sirius let out a sigh and turned to face him once more. "See... I don't know what this is." He spread his hands in some declaration of hopeless defeat, but to Harry it looked more as though he were grasping for something to hold on to. Something that just might steady him.

He still did not move as Sirius returned to his side and sank down to sit beside him on the floor again. His godfather's gaze slid over his face but did not linger there. "What you told me, Harry... I have never..." He rubbed the pad of his thumb into a stain of soot left on the carpet. "I loved James. And Remus. Maybe, for a time, even Peter. They were... the best mates I could ever have wished for." He shook his head, hair falling into his face. "I loved my years at Hogwarts... I even loved Lily..." he continued, "not because she and James produced this tiny, wrinkled, red-faced little monster that kept them up all night with its screaming and whatnot, but because she made him happy, you know. James, I mean." He flashed a crooked, soulless grin. Then he looked up, silvery eyes meeting Harry's. "He liked being a father."

Harry swallowed, hard. "He did?"

"Yeah." Sirius nodded slowly. "Damn proud of you, he was. I couldn't figure out why at first, but I suppose he saw something in you already then. Something I only got to see much later."

This time it was Harry who looked away. "I never wanted any of this," he mumbled. "I didn't ask for any of it."

Again, Sirius spoke softly. "For what, Harry?"

He kept staring into the carpet. "I... for this."

Sirius' fingers on his cheek were gentle, and yet the touch was almost unbearable. They slid to press lightly under his chin and urge him to lift his head. Sirius was watching him closely. "For all that I have loved," he said, in a low voice, "I don't think I've ever been in love, Harry."

With eyes stinging once more, Harry strove in vain to keep his voice steady. "Could you ever be?"

Sirius moved his fingers back to his cheekbone in a light caress. "If I could come back from the dead, I dare suggest anything is possible."

"You weren't dead."

But Sirius gave a small shake of his head. "You know what I mean." He brushed his knuckles over Harry's cheeks. "I know what you want to hear... but I can't say it. Not yet." Still his lips curved in a tentative smile. "But I will tell you this: I don't want you in The Burrow. I want you here. And I want you close. I want to speak with you, and hold you. And I even want to hear you plan your Grand Rescue of the Malfoys from the evil clutches of the Ministry..."

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "That's not..."

"All right." Sirius relented with a grimace. His hand fell away. "I'm rubbish at this, Harry. You should have been able to predict that before you instigated this conversation."

If he'd had any sort of grasp on the situation up until now, Harry was quickly losing it. "But I needed to say it... I had to tell you. Because... I didn't – I don't – want it to be all about..." He swallowed. "Well, for me it's not just about..." Sex. He dropped his gaze to the floor.

What he did not expect was Sirius' hand on his shoulder, tugging him closer quite decisively. Still, he never objected, but let himself be enfolded in a fierce, mildly uncomfortable, but extraordinarily welcome embrace. Sirius pressed a kiss into his unruly hair and when he spoke his voice was notably gruff, "It's not, Harry. I promise you it's not."

Harry's glasses were cutting into his cheeks and Sirius' neck, and as much as he cherished his godfather's arms around him, he wormed his way out of his embrace before long. His face flushed as he stole a glance at Sirius. "I want that, too..." he admitted. "I mean, it's not as if I don't, it's just..."

But the time for sincere heart-to-hearts was obviously past for now Sirius waved a hand in dismissal. "I get it. You've never done it with a bloke before. But don't you worry. I'll set you straight." He grinned. "Or not, as it were."

Harry could not help a smile, but his insides squirmed nervously. However that had come to be, Sirius seemed to be under the impression that Harry had at least been with a girl before. Such a thing had, of course, never happened and yet Harry could not bring himself to divulge the truth.

"Plus," Sirius continued, unhindered. "I am your godfather, which undeniably is a detail significant enough to unsettle anyone." His eyes acquired a mischievous glimmer. "But as for myself, I find it rather... inspiring."

When Harry found nothing to say but could only stare at him, he laughed. "Well, don't you think it is at least … a little kinky? No?"

"Um..." Harry wasn't sure what was most unsettling: what Sirius was saying or the surprisingly pleasant rush of excitement that sped through him.

Sirius leaned in a little closer. "Come on, Harry..." he purred. "Admit it. You like the idea of sha–"

"All right," Harry cut across him, cheeks burning now. "Maybe. A little. But I never really thought about, not in that way."

"No?" Sirius sat back and heaved a sigh. "Oh, ye pure of heart..."

"Not that pure," Harry objected. Then he grinned. "Well, pure in comparison to your corrupted and twisted one."

"Corrupted?" Sirius gasped in feigned indignation. "You will take that back, Harry! At once! Or I won't check to see which one of your body parts that I hit with a string of hexes more sinister than you have ever seen the likes of before."

"Yeah?" Harry laid a hand on his wand. "What will you do to me?"

Sirius' eyes narrowed dangerously. "Oh, I just might... tame that hair of yours. So that it stops tickling my nostrils when I'm holding you."

"Very frightening," Harry laughed. He scrambled a bit closer and was happy when Sirius did not move further away but stayed put.

"Mhm." Sirius reached out and cupped the back of his head with one hand, bringing their mouths together.

They kissed long. Harry abandoned his wand and wove his fingers into his godfather's hair, not unafraid of whatever discussions such as these actually might result in, but too relieved that Sirius was still speaking to him to back away.

It became harder and harder, however, to keep track of any thoughts and possible repercussions as Sirius' hands wandered over his shoulders and brushed his neck with slightly calloused fingertips, sending a pleasant shiver across Harry's skin. Sirius kissed smoothly, without challenge or any sign of increasing wickedness. Yet Harry sank deeper and deeper into the rising desire to explore the warm skin of his godfather's chest, or map the muscles of his thighs beneath that worn denim. But he held still, even as he allowed Sirius to suckle his lower lip and steal a soft moan from him.

His blush made his skin sizzle with heat and Sirius smiled into the kiss as though he knew what was going on with Harry. Probably he did. And it might also be that he was feeling much the same. The idea would have made Harry's knees go weak if he had been standing. Sitting down, he felt as though his whole body was dissolving.

It took a year – at least – for the kiss to end. They pulled apart so extraordinarily slowly that Harry thought he might be breaking from the sheer brilliance of it. Sirius' lips were so soft and so gentle as they moved against his and by the time a bit of fresh air finally reached Harry's skin, he was dizzy. One of his hands was on Sirius' upper arm and the other lay numb in his lap. His godfather's breathing was slow and even, and very, very heavy. His eyelids were leaden, but Harry finally managed to blink open his eyes and Sirius' face swam into focus.

As soon as Harry saw his expression he wanted nothing more but to resume the kissing. There was too much of everything in his godfather's face and Harry could feel an answering pull from somewhere deep within, and a stab of heat such as he had never felt before went straight through him.

Something might have happened then – something Harry had originally wished to put off for a while longer – if the thick drawing room air had not been dislodged by a piercing CRACK!

They spun around as one.

And they were alone.

o.O.o

"Kreacher. It was Kreacher." Harry tapped the mattress restlessly with the tip of his wand. "He saw us. I just know he did."

"You'll set the bed on fire, Harry." Sirius dragged his t-shirt over his head.

A bit of moonlight was filtering through the curtains and a candle was burning atop the bedside cabinet but mostly the bedroom was wrapped in shadow.

Harry reluctantly let go of his wand. "He saw us, Sirius."

His godfather stepped out of his jeans. For once, his pale skin did not draw Harry's eye. "Yes, he probably did." Clad only in his briefs he sauntered over to the bed. "We've been over this already. Yes, it was probably Kreacher. Yes, he was probably spying on us. That's nothing new." Dropping down onto the mattress he met Harry's gaze. "It bothers you, what he saw." It was hard to interpret his tone of voice. There was an edge of sorts to it that made Harry cringe inwardly.

Sirius eyed him carefully. "If we don't put an end to this, Harry, it's going to come out. With or without Kreacher's help..."

"I don't mind..." said Harry, but he did not miss the lack of conviction in his own voice.

"Because things always come out. In the end," said Sirius. "Are you ready for that?"

"I..." Harry wished he knew what to say. He had been so desperate to tell his godfather of his feelings for him but it was an entirely different matter to have his friends and his extended family know what was actually going on in the Black residence. He glanced down. "Not yet," he admitted.

They sat for a while in silence, until Sirius straightened and reached for him. "Come here."

Depositing his wand and his glasses next to the candle and blowing the latter out, Harry eased himself down and moved into his godfather's arms. Sirius spooned up behind him and encircled his waist with a possessive arm. He buried his nose in Harry's hair and exhaled. "Let's not do any more thinking today," he suggested. "Let's forget about Kreacher, yeah?"

Harry nodded into the pillow. Contrary to Sirius, he was wearing a t-shirt but he could not really say why. He wondered what might happen if he took it off.

But he never got the chance to find out for Sirius' hand on his belly moved to catch one of Harry's own hands instead and, twining their fingers together, he brought them to a rest near Harry's heart. "I don't want to think about anything," Sirius mumbled into his hair. "Not about Kreacher or any of us dying or fires or... tomorrow." He drew a ragged breath. "I don't want to think about tomorrow, Harry."

The room was nothing but a dark blur and so Harry closed his eyes. Sirius pressed against him in search only of comfort, nothing else. It was a relief, to tell the truth, because right now that was the one reality Harry thought he could handle.

TBC